


Untitled Drabble

by Retro Lipstickcat (Lipstickcat)



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-31
Updated: 2015-08-31
Packaged: 2018-04-18 07:29:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4697486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lipstickcat/pseuds/Retro%20Lipstickcat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Crowley was kungfoo fighting...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Untitled Drabble

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written in 2004 - I'm transferring it to this archive unedited

Aziraphale looked like a kicked puppy, and Crowley felt like he’d been the one doing the kicking. Technically, it was hitting though. And he hadn’t meant it. How was he to know that the angel’s reflexes weren’t that quick?

The combination of far too much coffee, a Jackie Chan film and a dopey blond didn’t mix. Crowley had imitated a cool move that involved using his jacket as a whip, (and never mind the broken plant pot, that particular spider plant wasn’t making enough effort anyway), before wrapping it around the bad guy -otherwise known as Aziraphale-’s waist and then pulling them close to deliver the knockout blow; the heel of his palm to the nose.

It wasn’t his fault that Aziraphale had thought he was going to kiss him and had moved closer instead of further away.

And now he was standing there, looking miserable. A trickle of blood ran down from one nostril and thickly flowed to his pouting upper lip. Crowley winced with guilt. Then he realised that there really was no need for Aziraphale to bleed; he was milking it!

"Oh for g- just get a bloody tissue!"

Aziraphale’s eyebrows shot up in surprise and he whimpered a little. Crowley closed his eyes and sighed.

“I’m sorry, OK?” he fished in his trouser pocket and found that a silk hankie had materialised there. He was pretty sure he hadn’t done that himself. Besides not meaning to do it, silk?

“Here. Let me,” he said with a roll of his eyes as he stepped forwards.

Aziraphale didn’t resist or flinch away as the demon carefully cupped his chin and tilted his head upwards. The silk was cool and soothing as it dabbed along the top of his lip. The bleeding stopped, miraculously. Crowley gently tilted his head back down and leaned forwards to press their lips together in a fleeting kiss. He stepped back smiling.

“All better now?”

Aziraphale looked unsure, his blue eyes were cloudy as he weighed up his options.

“A little,” his voice sounded wheedling, like a kid who wanted something, “but I think that I would feel a lot better if you bought me ice cream.

“Fine,” Crowley sighed as he stuffed the hankie back into his pocket, but he was smiling. “Lets go out and get some. What flavour do you think will help the healing process best?”

“Oh, nothing fancy. Just chocolate. With caramel sauce. Cherries. Cream, whipped of course-”

“Naturally.”

“- and a little ornamental umbrella.”

Crowley took Aziraphale’s hand and squeezed it.

“I’ll see what I can do.”


End file.
